


Lionheart

by flybird



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Clexa, Commander Clarke, F/F, Fix-it fic, Hallucinations, and so is clarke, host!au, im fueled by rage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6180577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flybird/pseuds/flybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Death is not the end,” the warrior whispered to the fallen girl.</p><p>“I know, I know. Not this time.”</p><p>[Some bonds are too strong to be broken. It's as simple as that.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to riseforwanheda on tumblr. without their amazing headcanon and their permission, this fic never would have happened.

The smoke from the funeral pyre clung to Clarke’s skin. She should have washed it off hours ago, but even after scrubbing her skin raw it still filled her nose and mouth. By now it almost tasted sweet; a reminder that stopped her from forgetting everything that had happened in the last three days. Even when her mind clouded over from exhaustion and shock threatened to sink in, she would rather die before she allowed herself to forget.

Clenching her eyes shut, Clarke forced herself to think of Lexa. Her skin, her hands, her eyes--how her smile had felt pressed to her mouth and all over her skin, worshipping her body with an awe that was almost childlike in nature. That was something that she would never let slip away, she would burn Lexa into her mind and keep her there forever.

A sudden rapping on her door knocked her out of her thoughts and she spun around to face it.

“Enter.”

A boy stepped into the room, but he hung back a good distance, barely making it through the door. He opened his mouth once, gulped, then finally spoke. “The conclave is beginning Wanheda, you are invited to the starting ceremony if you choose to attend.” He then stiffened, waiting.

Clarke could feel his eyes on her, taking in the state of her clothes, her hair. They were a mess. She hadn’t bothered to change before sleeping last night and she still wore them now, even though it was well into the evening. The bedroom was chaos. A smashed chair lay in pieces by the door and the candles that were changed and lit daily by servants had burned down into small piles of wax. No one had disturbed her since the pyre.

She grit her teeth, holding in her anger at being judged by a stranger. “I will not be at the ceremony, I can see well enough from my window. You can also tell Titus to come fetch me himself from now on.” She turned away again, back to the empty fire pit.

“Yes Wanheda.” Clarke heard the door shut and she unclenched her jaw. With a deep breath she sat down on the fur rug and put her head in her hands. She really should attend. The reason she had stayed in Polis was to deal with the aftermath of- to deal with the other ambassadors. Her people needed her to keep the blockade in place. Without it they would be wiped out because of Pike’s bloody conquest and everything she had done would be for nothing. That could _not_ happen, she refused to let it.

For right now though, Clarke could be alone.

She pushed the heels of her palms into her closed eyes and watched shapes form against the darkness. The pit in her stomach was growing again and she could smell smoke. She pushed harder, laying back on the furs. Ears pounding, she tensed until she was as stiff as a corpse, fighting the urge to cry. She had done enough of that already and it threatened to shatter her every time.

A distraction, anything. Clarke needed to not be here.

Sitting up straight, she opened her eyes. Nothing had changed.

Three shuttering breaths later, she gained the will to move; walking over to her desk and to her art supplies. There were quite a few. She had let it slip to a servant that she enjoyed drawing and they had appeared on her bed in neat packages within the hour. Lexa had probably been behind that.

There was no chair to sit on by the desk and no light to draw by, not properly at least. Clarke picked up her papers anyways, looking them over. She had drawn a lot that past week, more than she had since she’d landed. There were so many sketches. Of strangers, the view from her window, Lexa, the sunlight through the curtains in the morning, more Lexa. Lexa fighting, Lexa sleeping, smiling, staring, Lexa, Lexa, Lexa. Her grip tightened on the papers and she forced herself to let them go before she ripped them by mistake.

There would be no escape for her there.

A book maybe. There was plenty in the room, all supplied by the commander. Personal favorites she had said. They had promised to talk about them sometime, but that wasn’t going to happen anymore was it.

Clarke picked one up anyways and carried it over to the window ledge. It was a long drop down and nothing to stop her from falling. It felt… good. Freeing.

The air was clear and warm that night, Polis was lit up for the conclave and the clamor rose up to her on the wind. If she really focused she liked to imagine that she could pick out individual voices. Instead, she sat down on the ledge and examined the book. The spine was broken and she could count five dog-eared pages. Opening to the first chapter, she set about the task of actually reading something. It was strange to read a book off of paper instead of a techpad, most had been downloadable from a shared archive back on the Ark.

After what felt like a hundred false starts, the book began to draw her into its world. It was a fast paced story, with a lilting style and plenty of flare. No wonder Lexa liked it, it was nearly as dramatic as she was. Clarke almost laughed at the thought, but caught it at the last second and sucked it down into her gut. It was too soon, way too soon.

The noise from outside billowed up to her in that moment, louder than it should be. It didn’t sound the same as it had before; it was shriller, like screams.

Giving the book up for a lost cause, she turned her attention towards the window. The sprawling city greeted her. Past the markets there was a large building made out of cut stone. Crowds of thousands stood outside of it, each carrying a lantern. That was the Hall of the Commanders, where the conclave took place and the new Heda was chosen.

Just then, the windows of the hall lit up with fire. The large doors leading into the building were flung open by the force of what only could be a massive explosion and fire raced out, scorching some of the crowd. Seconds later a boom that Raven would be proud of reached her. Something was happening. Something bad. Clarke needed to be down there. Right. Now.

Springing up and throwing on a hooded cloak, she raced out the door. Her guards called out to her, but she payed them no mind. The elevator was just up ahead. Skidding to a stop she barked an order at the operator and the doors began to open. Once inside the large box, they closed and the long descent began.

Clarke shuffled nervously in place. What the fuck was happening down at the conclave. Explosions were not a normal part of the ceremony that Titus had drilled into her skull in an attempt to be helpful. The initiates were supposed to enter the building and undergo a series of tests. From problem solving to mortal combat, they would be picked off one by one. The variety of trials was impressive, but demolition expertise was not one of them. So that meant something had gone wrong and if she had learned anything on her time on the ground, when things go wrong it would never be in her favor. It was time for her to do some damage control.

The elevator finally jolted to a halt and Clarke sprung out the doors, bowling over some unsuspecting official. Outside of the tower things were incredibly chaotic. People scrambled over each other in confusion, some running towards the hall and others away. She set into a dead sprint through the markets, dodging stalls; weaving her way through the crowd.

When she reached the end of the marketplace, the crowd became thicker. These people weren’t moving. Shoving her way through the mob, Clarke got closer to the building, but not fast enough. She didn’t have _time_ for this. Flinging back her hood, she roared, “Get out of my way!” Heads swiveled toward her and already scared faces lit up with fear. The grounders backed away, leaving a path just wide enough for one. She walked down it as quickly as possible. Heading to the official’s box where Titus and the ambassadors who made it to the ceremony would be. Where the new Heda would be inaugurated.

Climbing the stairs as quickly as possible, she made her way up to the box. Titus’s bald head gleamed like a beacon under the lantern light. What a prick. Hiding her animosity she called out to him, “Titus, what’s happened?”

He didn’t seem surprised to to see her. Slightly irritated if anything, but that might be due to the fact that someone had just blown up his precious conclave. She went over to his side anyways. “The Azgeda Natblida stormed the ceremony and demanded to be allowed to compete. Only minutes after she entered the hall an explosion occurred.” He spoke quietly.

“Are you sure it was her?”

“I sent guards in to investigate just minutes ago, but I am almost certain this is her work. We are only waiting for them to return.”

“What happens if it was her?”

“I am not certain. Nothing like this has taken place in my time fleimkepa.”

“But it has happened.” She pressed.

He tensed at that. “Yes, around sixty years ago a rogue Natblida assassinated the other initiates and claimed control.” He replied.

“Doesn’t that break the rules of the ceremony?”

“Yes, but he was the only one left. The fleimkepa had no choice but to give in.”

“Will you?”

“We need a Heda. I must complete my duty.” Just as he finished speaking, a roar from the crowd drew them towards the doors and the person who stood just outside of them.

The Azgeda Nightblood stood tall, covered in what could only be the blood of the children and the guards. She was looking up at the box, still as if carved from ice. Clarke could swear she was looking at her. She spoke then, voice carrying across the crowd. “I claim my place as Heda, I have bested the conclave and have proven that I am the strongest of the Nightbloods. That my spirit and the commander’s is one in the same.”

A woman in the crowd yelled, “You cannot be our Heda, you have not won the conclave! You broke it!” The Nightblood didn’t respond, she simply began to walk towards the box and up the stairs, all while keeping her eyes fixed forward. She stopped just feet from Clarke and Titus and looked at him expectantly.

Titus walked forward and knelt before her. She smiled at that, her teeth stained black with the blood that ran down her face in rivulets. It wasn’t hers.

Cold crawled up Clarke’s spine and her hair stood on end. This was a killer and her body instinctively recognized danger in the way the girl carried herself, like a pakstoka--lean and deadly. A wolf in human skin.

Titus rose and began to speak in a tongue she didn’t recognize. It was similar to Trigedasleg, but twisted so much that she couldn’t pick out any meaning. With his arms outstretched and his arms raised parallel to the floor, he chanted. The words spilled out of him and into the air where they hung suspended, electric. Then just as quickly as he started, Titus stopped.

He gestured for the young woman to turn. She complied, still smiling eerily. He brushed her dark, sticky hair to the side, exposing her neck. He reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out the skull box that contained that… thing. He opened it and placed it on a small table. He then selected a small blade, the same one he had used on Lexa. Pressing it into the neck of the Nightblood, he created a slit about an inch and a half long. Black blood poured out, but the girl didn’t move or react in any visible way. He then tried to place the thing inside of her. The small tendrils that Clarke had seen unknit from Lexa seemed unwilling to be joined with the girl. After several tense seconds they finally reached inside of the cut and the thing disappeared with a squelching noise that turned Clarke’s stomach. The girl twitched twice violently and fell still, breathing heavily. Titus quickly stitched the cut closed with a skill and steady hand that would have admirable under better circumstances.

It, whatever it was, was done.

The girl then turned to face Titus once more, still grinning. The blood was gone now, probably licked off.

Titus cleared his throat, “What is your name Heda?”

She stopped smiling then, eyes darting from person to person. They came to rest on Clarke, unreadable and dark, but steady. “Ontari kom Azgeda.”

Titus stepped away, his face grim and pained. He walked over to the balcony, brushing past Clarke in the process. He addressed the crowd with a tight voice, “People of the Commander, today we pledge ourselves to a new Heda. Her name is Ontari and in being chosen by the spirit, she vows to rule us honorably with all the strength in her bones, all the blood in her veins, until her final breath. In return, we give ourselves up to her.” He stopped then, gulping audibly before continuing. “Long live Heda Ontari.”

Clarke broke her gaze from the girl and turned to face the crowd. They were still, confused and scared. Finally they sank to their knees and echoed Titus’s words, heads bowed, “Long live Heda Ontari.” It rippled through the mass of people like a wave, shocking the ambassadors out of their stupor and they too kneeled.

Swallowing bile, she turned back to Ontari. The Heda. Not her Heda, but inside her neck, inside of some alien technology, was Lexa.

She was still staring at her.

Clarke did the only thing she could, save bow to this imposter.

She ran like hell.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Ah, fuck. Watch what you’re doing would you.” Murphy tried to scowl up at her from where he lay on the cot, but the angle was too awkward and he gave up quickly. His back was shredded; thick lashes running across one another, while dark bruising bloomed across his ribs and neck. Whatever Titus had been hoping to get from torturing him, it clearly wasn’t freely given.

“Shut up, I’m trying to stop these lacerations from becoming more infected, and thereby most likely saving your life,” Clarke shot back at him. He had been whining the whole time and refused to just lay still. Everytime she so much as dabbed some ointment on his back, he would shrink away like it burned. How was she supposed to clean him up if he wouldn’t let her.

“I don’t _need_ disinfecting princess, I can wash myself just fine.” Clarke pressed harder on one of the shallower cuts and he let out a yelp of pain.

“You did that on purpose!”

“Don’t call me princess,” Clarke replied. “And by the look of your back, you have not been getting it clean enough. You’re nearly septic.” The skin around the cuts was an angry red colour, and it wasn’t nearly healed enough for the amount of time that had passed, it had been about four days since he was last tortured. If the wounds were deeper, she would have them stitched up. Instead they were mostly surface cuts that should have scabbed over by now. If she had to guess, Murphy kept reopening them.

“Ooh touchy, guess I’m not the only one who has sore spots that someone likes to prod at.”

The radio interrupted Clarke’s rebuttal just then, saving her from getting into it with the criminal. It would be a waste of her energy anyways, because if there was one thing Murphy was good at, it was arguing. She put down the grounder version of a sterile pad and walked over to the medical ward’s desk.

“Oh don’t mind me, I’ll just lay here. Take a nap maybe.”

“You do that Murphy. When you’re out cold I don’t have to listen to your whining.” With that, Clarke picked up the radio. “Octavia, what’s happening over there? Also you agreed to radio every morning. It almost noon.”

With a faint crackle, Octavia Blake’s voice came through, “Sorry, sorry. It's just a lot has gone down. A whole shit ton actually, but you would know that if you had actually come back with us.”

“We’ve been over this, I’m needed in Polis right now. There is nothing that I could do for our people back in Arkadia, that I can’t do over here. Namely making sure that the new Heda doesn’t decide that the blockade is useless and wipe us out.”

Octavia didn’t reply for a moment. Finally she spoke, “How are you dealing with that. Ontari seems a bit off from what you’ve told me and I know you and Lexa were close. Even if I can’t understand it, I can recognize it.”

At that she let out a long shuddering breath. Turning around to face Murphy, she saw that he was looking at her and very much not napping. “Now’s not a good time O. Just fill me in with what’s going on. What about that strange illness? Has Abby figured it out yet, you said it was some kind of drug right.”

“Yeah, Abby had a breakthrough last night. She managed to extract this thing that Jaha is calling ‘The Key to the City of Light’.” Murphy inhaled sharply. Clarke looked back at him and saw that his eyes were wide and his face pale. Paler than normal that is. Octavia continued, “Raven was one of the first to take it, your mom just barely got it out in time. Ever since she woke up all she’s been talking about is this woman in red. It’s complete gibberish of course, but the others are saying the same thing. Whoever she is, that lady is up to her neck in this.”

“Was there any deaths?”

“Uh, yes. The key thing had about a 20% mortality rate, some people reacted worse than others.”

Her heart rate picked up. She swallowed thickly, “Who?”

“You don’t know most of them. Of the people who took it, the majority were Pike’s people from the Farm Station.”

“That’s… good, I guess. Who else?” There was nothing. The silence stretched out for several long seconds before she broke it. “Octavia, you have to tell me,” she pleaded.

“Jasper.”

Clarke closed her eyes. Memories played her behind her eyelids. Jasper in his goggles. Jasper swinging across the river. Finding him, saving him. How he was always trying to be the hero, to the point of recklessness. Just more memories to save; just another person she cared about. Dead.

“Clarke, are you there?”

“Yeah I’m here. Is there anything else?” She rubbed her forehead. She was so used to the pain, it was only numbing now.

“Pike is under a lot of fire. Some of his key supporters were killed by the drug and people are pissed that he let Jaha distribute it without figuring out if it was safe first. Kane and Abby are using the tension to turn things in our favor. Clarke, we’ve got a shot. If we can keep this momentum going, we could call for impeachment,” Octavia said quickly, as if she was in a hurry to give out some good news for once.

“Ask her what the keys look like.” Murphy chose that moment to speak up, brows furrowed.

“Why, what does it matter? And why would do you care?”

“Just ask would you.”

She shook her head at him but asked anyways, “What did the drug look like.”

“They were little blue chips with infinity symbols on them.”

All the air left the room. Flashes of black blood, tears, a dying girl. A chip with an infinity symbol coming out of Lexa’s neck. In an instant, things snapped into place. Whatever those keys were, they were the same as the spirit of the commander, but how could that be? It wasn’t possible was it? The spirit of the commander had been around for decades and whatever Jaha had was fairly new right?

Clarke shook her head violently. One thing at a time. “Thanks, O.”

“No problem. I’ll radio in soon with another update on the Pike situation,” and just like that Octavia was gone.

Clarke set the radio down slowly, mind racing. Murphy must know something. He’d seen the chip come out of Lexa as well. She looked at him calmly, “So, what was that about.” She didn’t let on that she had made a connection. Maybe he would let something slip.

“Nothing really. I was with Jaha for a while, before he left locked me in a bunker for months. When I got out he was on the far side of crazy.” He wouldn’t look her in the eye. He was holding back.

“Did he offer you a key?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t take it.” That was odd. From what Octavia had told her, the drug relieved all pain. She looked down at Murphy’s scarred skin. She thought about him breaking down atop that cliff so long ago. He seemed to have experienced more than his fair share, they all had.

“Nah. Jaha was way too off for me to trust anything he would give me. He was talking about some lady who lives in a backpack made out of a computer and this magical city where nothing goes wrong. He said that it would fix me.” His face grew dark. “I don’t need fixing,” he spat. “And I don’t need lies.”

“When the last Heda died and Titus-”  


“The bald guy, good with a quarterstaff?”

“Yeah, him. When Titus took out the spirit of the commander, did you get a good look at it?”

“Of course I did. The thing was the main attraction.”

“Did it look like one of Jaha’s keys?”

“Sort of, I guess. The mark was the same, but the colour and shape was different. The keys never sprouted feelers either.”

“Thanks Murphy, lay back down and I’ll finish with your back.” She motioned for him to get back on the cot. As he had talked he’d gravitated towards the door.

“Fine.” He sat down and flipped onto his stomach, breaking some of his scabs in the process. He let out a groan of pain. “Damnit.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and began to clean his cuts again, but her mind was already a million miles away.

Titus had some explaining to do.

  
\-------------------------

  
Clarke burst through Titus’s chamber door with a loud bang. He jumped up from his chair, dropping his quill in the process and overturning an ink bottle. “Explain,” Clarke demanded.

Titus furiously began to try to blot up some of the ink, “Explain what, and do be clear, I have a lot of paperwork to manage.” Still not looking at her, he shuffled around the stained parchments with a peeved expression.

“Explain the commander’s spirit to me. How does it work? Where did it come from? Do be clear, I have a lot of things to do.” At that his head shot up.

“Why would you be interested in such things, they are not something one is given privy to lightly.”

“Titus, tell me.” With that Clarke sat down on the other side of the desk and crossed her arms. She refused to move until she was told what she needed to know. She would sit there as long as it took for him to tell her what she needed. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long, but it was hard to tell with Titus.

“Why Heda Lexa was so interested in you escapes me.” He looked at her sharply; searching for a sign of weakness undoubtedly. It was a low blow, but Clarke refused to let it affect her. Lexa had cared for her. Nothing he could say or do would change that. Not anymore. She stared resolutely at him, meeting his gaze and his challenge.

Titus looked away first and he sat down with a heavy sigh. “How the commander’s spirit works is unclear. What we do know is that it forges a bond between the living Heda and the dead so that they may guide them through the trails of leadership.”

“So the commander’s spirit can bond with anyone?” Clarke interrupted.

“No of course not. Only the strongest can be bonded,” He looked proud at that. “The unworthy die within hours of the first connection. Only a nightblood can host the commander’s spirit indefinitely.”

“Have others tried?”

“Of course. The longest anyone has lasted without nightblood was half a day.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow at that, “But what does the bond do? Lexa mentioned dreams, visions. She said that the previous commanders sent her warnings.” Titus’s adam's apple bobbed. She had taken him by surprise with that admission.

“That is correct. The Hedas that I have served have also told me about entering another world to commune with the spirits of the passed bearers.”

Clarke’s breathing came to a halt. This meant that Lexa was still alive, sort of. That she was trapped inside of that chip. Ontari had Lexa. Lexa was inside of Ontari. She could get her out. Clarke could get her back.

Hiding her emotions, she continued as if nothing had happened, “Where did the spirit come from?” But Titus had turned back to his papers and was ignoring her. A petty move and she cleared her throat once, twice, before giving it up as a lost cause. He had told her enough already.

Clarke stood up and started to head out the doors. She stopped a few feet from the desk and turned to look back at the fleimkepa, she noticed wet marks on his scrolls that were definitely not from ink and how red and puffy his eyes were. The room was dark and cold. Clearly he was in mourning. Breaking her icy demeanor, if only for a second, she said, “Thank you.” Titus didn’t look up, but he let out a sigh. That was enough.

Clarke left the room closing the doors behind her. As she headed up the impossibly long staircase, foregoing the elevator, her mind began to race. The beginnings of an desperate plan started to come to her. After being the smart one for so long, she was overdue to try something crazy. She fingered the knife she kept up her sleeve, but then again. After falling from space, nothing seemed impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just over 2k. not so shabby for a load of exposition, but it had to be done.*makes a fist* for the plot.  
> things will start rolling pretty quickly after this though, so consider it the calm before the storm


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoo. im pretty tired rn so im going to deep edit this later
> 
> enjoy

As her room grew darker and colder, so did Clarke’s mood. Time was being wasted through inaction; time that wasn’t just hers. Lexa was still here--in some form, and as the sun traveled farther down the sky, her chances sank with it.

She needed to act fast. Ontari hadn’t had time to establish herself as Heda yet and with her controversial initiation into command, Clarke would never have a chance better than this.

Although Lexa’s policies were not always supported by her ambassadors and Nia’s attempt at a coup had rattled her strength further, her people had supported her through it all. By waging peace instead of war, she had saved countless warriors and civilians. Through improving relations between the clans, the quality of life had improved tenfold. She was their Heda and they were loyal to her still. The nightbloods had been her legacy and Ontari had not won her place among them. Instead she had slaughtered the children without honor, with techniques that Clarke suspected had been learned from Emerson, the last Mountain Man. As if breaking the conclave wasn’t condemning enough.

If she killed Ontari now, it was very likely that she would have the people’s support. With Titus’s help the ambassadors would be forced to give her a chance.

If only her mom would hurry up with the blood sample she had sent her after Lexa’s dea- she stopped herself there. The smell of smoke was coming back and she couldn’t go down that road right now. Clarke needed to keep a clear head and compartmentalize. That was the only way she would be able pull this off.

If her mom would hurry up with analyzing the black blood and comparing it to the Sky People's as well as the grounders, she would know if this plan would had even the slightest chance of working.

Until then she was stuck doing nothing.

Picking up the radio for the fifth time in three hours, Clarke checked in to see if Abby was done yet, but before she could get a word in she was cut off. “Abby’s finished. The test results just came back so take a breath and let me put her on.”

“Thanks O.”

“This plan is insanely risky by the way. Even for you. If the blood types aren’t close enough you’ll probably die and we don’t know what the margin for error is with this. Or what exactly that spirit thing does inside of someone.”

“I need to do this.”

“I know. I’m trying to understand why though. Why do you always put yourself into these positions? You keep saying you don’t want to be a leader, but here you are planning to assassinate the new Heda and take control of the entire coalition!”

“Octavia you love Lincoln right.”

“Yeah. What does that have to do with you killing Ontari?”

“There was something I didn’t tell you, Kane, and Abby. The person who has the commander’s spirit can communicate with the old Heda’s through dreams and visions.”

Octavia’s voice got low and rough, “Clarke you better not be saying what I think you are.”

“I can get her back O. She’s still here and for once what I want and what our people need are in alignment. Ontari was Nia’s pawn, she _will_ break the blockade, even if Arkadia falls like we think it will. I can save everyone and the only person who pays for it if I fail will be me.”

“But what if she kills you, what are we going to do then. You are our only person in Polis with any sort of political power.” She was desperate now, pleading.

“If I don’t make it, Murphy will get a message to you. Our people aren’t safe here. Something needs to change. Either I kill Ontari and become commander, or our people run. Those are the only options.”

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gotten involved with Lexa in the first place.”

That knocked the air out of Clarke’s lungs, “If I hadn’t gotten involved with Lexa, all of us would be dead,” she spat. “I’m done talking about this. Put Abby on.”

“Fine.” The room was silent save her uneven, heaving breaths. Who did Octavia think she was judging her. She didn’t know them--she couldn’t understand, no matter what she said. Spinning around Clarke turned to her desk. There were her sketches. From when she was naïve and thought they had time. When she had hope.

Anger surged through her then. Boiling hot; sending her mind reeling and she struggled to breathe through the smell of smoke. How could she have been so stupid, so stubborn. So blinded by her sense of righteousness that she denied herself happiness. That she had thought that she wanted Lexa _dead._

_‘I’ll kill you!’_

_‘So do it.’_

_‘I did it for my people.’_

What a liar.

And now there was no one to lie to.

Just her in this empty room.

“Clarke, I have the results of that blood work.” The smoke lessened slightly and her mind stopped spinning. Instead, it fell perfectly still.

Still staring at her desk Clarke replied, “And?”

“It’s odd, the sample taken from the old Heda is actually closer to our blood than the one taken from Lincoln.”

“How close is close?”

“Within a five percent difference to Lincoln’s fifteen. Without time to run more tests, I can’t identify why that is, but these results are promising.” The smell of smoke was almost gone now.

“What do you think my chances of survival are if I take the commander’s spirit.”

“Clarke…”

“Tell me.”

“I’m not sure, but you will have a better chance than anyone else in Polis.”

“Thank you mom.”

“I love you Clarke, be careful. I can’t lose you.” Abby’s voice was shaky through the radio.

The smoke disappeared. “I love you too, mom. You won’t lose me. I’m going to save us.”

**_I’m going to save you._ **

  
\---------------------------

 

Titus and Clarke stood outside of the throne room, waiting for Ontari to finish meeting with the Azgeda ambassador. From the sound of it, she was pardoning Nia’s supporters and undermining King Roan’s authority. Why was Clarke not surprised.

The ambassador stormed out a minute later, face livid, swearing in Trigedasleng under her breath. They waited for her to round the corner before looking at each other. “I guess that’s my cue,” Clarke snarked.

Titus’s frown grew deeper. “This is not a joking matter Wanheda. Ontari is a trained warrior and you are not.”

“I know that. I was trying to be friendly.”

He had the gall to roll his eyes at her. “Stay focused. Stay low. Aim for the throat and slash not stab.” With that he turned away and took up his position as look out.

Clarke entered the room slowly. Ontari was lounging on the throne, but at the sound of her footsteps she straightened. “You’re ambassador Klark kom Skaikru. The mountain slayer. The mighty Wanheda.”

“Heda Ontari.”

“Last time we met you tried to assassinate my master.”

“We had conflicting interests.” She raised her chin and tried to look strong. Confidence was key. An enemy never expected deceit from a confident person; it was the shifty coward who drew doubt into the minds of others. “She was trying to have the Heda killed. I saw it as my duty to try and save her in any way I could.” The torchlight flicked off the Nightbloods face, combined with the scars it seemed almost alien. She saw the circles under her eyes and the haggard way she struggled to stay upright. Ontari hadn’t been relaxing when she had come into the room, she was sick.

“So loyal,” Ontari replied. “A valuable trait.”

Inside Clarke lit up. This was her chance to get within striking range. “That is actually the reason I came here Heda. I was shocked during your inauguration and acted foolishly by running away. I am here to pledge myself to you. The power of Wanheda will be at your disposal,” she said.

“What do you expect to gain from this ambassador. You cannot really expect me to believe that you would do this out of some sense of obligation to me. I know myself and something tells me we are very similar.” A shrewd look came over her then and that mad grin returned, “You want your people to be safe no?”

“Yes. If I do this you must swear not to break the blockade. Give me the time to bring the Skaikru back into the fold of the clans.” Clarke took a few steps forward. She was so close. ”If you promise me this, I can promise that you find in me a grateful and resourceful ally.”

Ontari looked around the room. Perhaps she was realizing that there would be no one to hold her to her word if she saw fit to break it down the road. “I think this would be satisfactory for both of us. As proof of you swearing your allegiance to me, I want you to bow before me, like you did for Heda Leksa.”

The silver blade inside of her sleeve grew heavy at that. This was the chance she was looking for, she closed the last few feet between them. The commander rose carefully as if she was stiff from sitting so long and Clarke began to sink to her feet. When she was only inches from the floor she sprang forward shoving Ontari back into the throne with all her strength.

Ontari’s head connected with the back of the throne with a sickening crack and without giving her a chance to recover, Clarke jumped on top of her and shoved the knife under her jaw. Before she could draw it across the dark haired woman grabbed her hand holding it still.

She felt the commander swallow and small line of blood appeared. “You wouldn’t dare kill your Heda. I am the chosen!” Screamed Ontari horsley. More blood began to flow and Clarke put all her weight behind the blade.

“That’s just it, you're not my Heda,” she murmured. The woman’s eyes grew wide and clouded over.

“Clarke I--” Ontari’s grip went slack and the knife tore through her flesh, meeting and carving through bone. Black blood gushed over her hands and Clarke watched the woman’s life leave her body.

Leaning back and stepping away from the corpse Clarke nodded coldly, “Yu gonplei ste odon.” With that she called for Titus who rushed in and began to examine the body.

He turned her over and looked at the incision on her neck with a critical eye. It was swollen, but not with infection. Black bruise like marks ringed the outside and spread down her spine. “The spirit wasn’t taking well it seems. I should have known it wasn’t a good bond when it took so long for the connection to form,” he said.

“Make the transfer Titus. We don’t have much time before someone checks in here.” Initially he had fought her on that, before she had told him the facts; they made it clear that there was no other option. No one else had the combination of blood, political power, and motivation to become Heda. It was that or let the flame of the commander’s spirit die out. As fleimkepa he would give his life before he allowed that to happen.

Titus grabbed the small tin box that held his supplies. Cutting out the chip was easier than it was with Lexa. The wound wasn’t closed yet and the stitches split like nothing. The chip rose out of the ruined neck just as it had days before, except there were fewer tendrils connected to the host.

“Quickly Wanheda, show me your neck.” Clarke put her hair to the side, staining it with streaks of black. This was the moment of truth.

The scalpel stung deep as it spilt her skin just over the cervical vertebrae. Clarke vaguely noted that Titus was chanting in that strange language, but before she could give it any of her attention she was wrenched away by the feeling of small fiber like feelers knitting themselves into her bones. Into her body. Into her mind. Darkness crawled over the edges of her vision and the torches shined so brightly. They burned like small suns before the black swallowed them whole.

  
\------------------------

  
The first thing Clarke noticed was the wind. It was warm and felt like she had imagined it back on the Ark. Gentle and comforting.

The next was that there was someone watching her. She didn’t know _how_ she knew this because she couldn’t see anything, but she could sense it. A presence that felt old and sad.

She opened her eyes.

What she saw was something she had only read about and seen in the old sailing movies that Wells had loved so much. It was the ocean. A steely blue grey topped with whitecaps that stretched on forever, a picture of infinity.

“Clarke. You’re here. I guess I managed to break through Ontari’s control after all."

She whipped around so fast that her neck cracked. There, sitting in the long grass with her back to a large boulder, was Lexa.

She looked just as she had when she had died. Tan, warm, and small. If Clarke touched her, would she feel the same? Raising on shaky legs, she made her way over to the girl until she stood above her.

The wind continued to blow past them and they were still for a moment where they just looked at each other. Breathing in the sight of the dead and the living walking in the same world once more.

A bird cried somewhere over the sea.

She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but choked and had to try again. “You died.”

“I know,” Lexa replied. Her eyes were soft. The kind of soft that Clarke knew was only for her.

She tried again, “You died and I couldn’t save you.”

Lexa let out a long sigh. “No one could Clarke. I was born for death.” With that she looked down at her hands. “I’m just glad that our lives crossed and that I got to love you.”

Something inside of Clarke broke. A wall of pain and loss that sent her crashing to the ground and into Lexa’s arms. They held her close to her chest, solid and strong. Tears began to fall freely soaking into the older girl’s shirt and she borrowed her face into her neck. Under her lips Clarke could feel a steady heartbeat. “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine,” she repeated until the words were just sounds spoken into skin.

“I am yours Clarke, even death cannot change that.” Fingers began to run through blonde hair chasing away tangles until she finally pulled herself upright to look Lexa in the eyes.

“I love you Lexa and I am going to save you. I don’t know how yet, but if you are still here that means I can find a way to fix this,” She pressed a kiss to Lexa’s brow on the furrowed lines that had appeared at those words. “Like you’ve always said, death is not the end.”

They were still then, laying in the sun with the sound of the waves crashing on the cliffs filling the silence. They didn’t speak; they didn’t need to. They just held each other close and waited. For what Clarke did not know, but the air was growing thicker. A heavy sensation filled her limbs and she could only stay there in the grass, paralyzed.

“You have to go soon. These visions don’t last long, but I needed to see you,” Lexa whispered in her ear. “Don’t be afraid, we will meet again. Ai hod yu in Klark.” With that the sound of the world disappeared and the darkness reappeared, eating away at the light, pulling her away.

Clarke struggled against the silence and managed to speak one last time, “We will meet again.” The darkness swallowed the sun once more and she knew nothing.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are happening. thats good right? right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah sorry for the wait but irl stuff has been intense this last week plus this chapter has been kicking my ass for days now. im not super happy with what i have, but at this point i just need to keep moving forward.
> 
> anyways, enjoy

When Clarke woke up, it was morning. Lexa and the vision were gone.

 

Someone, most likely Titus had brought her from the throne room to her chambers and put a wet cloth on her forehead. She struggled to sit up straight. The back of her neck burned where the chip had been inserted and her mouth felt dry and unpleasant.

 

Water, she needed water.

 

Looking at her nightstand she found a cup filled with a slightly brown liquid inside of it. Tea. The grounder version of it anyway.

 

She gulped it down as quickly as possible, the drink was gross as hell cold.

 

Then she started the painful process of getting dressed. Whoever had treated her had put her in thin white garments that did nothing to keep her decent, although they  _ were _ incredibly soft and light. Clarke looked out her window, noting that the sun was low in the east telling her that it was early morning. Of which day she didn’t know. The fire had also been lit and the candles replaced. Even the broken chair had been cleaned up.

 

Finally she managed to tug the straps of her jacket tight and she headed out the door and into the hall. The guards at her door bowed low as she left and she acknowledged them with a firm nod as she passed.

 

She eyed the stairs and decided to save herself the struggle of climbing them by taking the elevator. Although it was slower and slightly claustrophobic, it allowed her the privacy to gather herself before she would have to make her debut as Heda. The ambassadors were something of a mixed bag, much like the clans they came from. Some were much more tolerant and willing to compromise for the sake of peace. Others could only see as far as tradition let them and with the ground’s violent history, that wasn’t far. 

 

A strange feeling came over Clarke then, static filling the small box and the sound of her breathing became amplified. Whispers blew through her mind, tangible but indistinguishable. Power rushed into her veins like a drug. The aching stiffness disappeared and she straightened, holding her chin high and proud. Her heart raced and the muscles in her forearms tense as if they were preparing for a fight. The doors slid open then and the world snapped back to normal; the static disappearing as quickly as it had come. The strength stayed though and Clarke walked into the throne room with confidence. 

 

It was empty save a servant who was scrubbing furiously at the stones underneath the grand chair. They were so intent on the task that they didn’t even look up when the sound of her closing the doors firmly behind her. Clarke cleared her throat, she didn’t know what she had been expecting but this was not it. The ambassadors arguing over the impossibility of her rise to Heda, thinking up creative ways to punish her maybe. Titus waiting to do…. Whatever it was that he did as fleimkepa. 

 

The servant’s head shot up at the noise and they straightened quickly. “Heda, I didn’t hear you come in. Please excuse me.” They walked around her quickly at a respectful distance, facing her the whole time. “I will go fetch the flamekeeper, I’m sure you two have much you wish to talk about.” The grounder backed out of the room bowing low.

 

Well that was new. As ambassador Clarke had always been treated well by the tower’s staff, but this was taking it to the extreme. No wonder Lexa’s ego was so big sometimes.

 

Being Heda would be a major adjustment. 

 

She went over to th--her throne and sat down. The floor at the foot of it was wet and still stained black from Ontari’s blood. 

 

As she waited for Titus, her mind raced. This was even more important than killing the old Heda, now she would need to carry through. Her actions were a bold statement and the following ones would have to live up to that. Clarke couldn't be seen as weak.

 

Titus’s bald head finally appeared through the door and he approached her, already frowning. “Heda, you are looking well.”

 

Clarke shrugged at that. Physically she felt both battered and filled with a pulsing, angry energy. It would be hard to describe to someone who couldn’t experience it first hand. Especially when she suspected that it was due to something outside--well technically inside, herself.

 

“The ambassadors want to hold a summit. There are some who have been planning to challenge your rule. Namely the Yujleda, Ouska Ejon Kru, and Boudalan ambassadors. They do not think that someone who is not a Natblida could be fit to rule. That is ignoring the fact you are Skaikru.” He folded his hands behind his back and began to pace restlessly. In that moment Clarke was reminded of someone, but before the name could come to her they were interrupted by the doors being thrown open.

 

The ambassadors crowded into the room led by a furious man with long dark hair and a beard to match. “What is the meaning of this Klark kom Skaikru.” He was shaking with rage. “You sit on the throne of the Heda as if you are worthy of the title.” 

 

“She sits on the throne because she  _ is  _ the Heda. I would advise you to be very careful of how to speak in the near future Gono.” Who he was clicked with Clarke, he was the ambassador of the Broadleaf Clan. Titus came to her defense with bluster and righteous defense that was so convincing that Clarke almost believed that they could avoid any confrontation. Almost.

 

The dark haired man looked to his left and his right. The ambassadors from the Blue Cliff and Rock Line clans stood beside him offering their support. The other ambassadors filed in behind them and took their chairs. Gono straightened up to his full height and jutted his chin out. “We shall not blindly follow this Heda. She is not a Nightblood or one of us. She is Skaikru, the clan who rejected our coalition and lay waste to our army.” Clarke remembered that the Broadleaf Clan had supported the merger initially, but after Pike had come to power they had been one of the most outspoken in their anger.

 

Titus puffed up with rage and opened his mouth but Clarke raised her hand and cut him off. “I recognize your anger Gono kom Yujledakuru. The Skaikru have wronged our people and have yet to make amends.” The man’s eyes narrowed at her words and she met them coldly giving nothing away. “On the matter of whether I can host the commander’s spirit, I am doing so right now and have yet to prove unworthy.” With that she moved her stare from the Broadleaf ambassador and moved it about the room, meeting those who dared return her gaze and seeing who wouldn’t. “Who among you would take the spirit and survive the bonding.” The tension in the room amplified and it seemed as if everyone was holding their breaths, hanging on her every sentence. “I dared, and I have survived.” With that Clarke put down her hand and waited. If this was chess, the queen would have just moved to bring the enemy into check.

 

A woman--she recognized her as the Plain Rider’s ambassador named Faun by her dark skin and leather clothing--rose from her seat at and spoke then. “If you are to be our Heda, you must deal with the Skaikru. Prove to us that you have the strength to quell an uprising and bring security back to us. Jus drein jus daun.” With that Faun sat down once more, her bit said and done.

 

Clarke steeled her nerves and the rush of power she had felt in the elevator returned to the forefront of her mind once more, filling her with confidence. She could do this; she wasn’t alone. “You are right, the Skaikru must be dealt with. For too long have they scorned our coalition. I will deal with Chancellor Pike,  _ personally _ .” The grounders stirred and began to whisper amongst themselves. “But, you are wrong in how we must deal with them. Blood must not have blood, blood must have justice and the two are not always the same. As Heda I am bound to our people and the spirit tell me this: the Skaikru cannot be the enemy, they are us and we are them. Just as I am both your Heda, born from the sky people.”

 

The hall fell silent. Even Titus seemed taken by surprise at Clarke’s words and she saw the opportunity to go for the kill. “Any who oppose this, oppose the bonded Heda and I will see it as a challenge not only the peace of our people, but to the will of the spirit.” Stopping for a breath, she saw her speech sink in. The ambassadors reactions ranged from impressed, too cowed. “Have I made myself clear Ambassador Gono?” 

 

The man hung his head in shame, “Sha, Wanheda.” With that the three ambassadors took their seats with the rest of the council.

 

“As the new Heda, I think it would be wise to start my term with a restrengthening of the coalition.” There was a general murmur of agreement around the room and Titus nodded briskly at Clarke showing his support for her move. “With all the turmoil happening around us, Polis must present as a united front. It is the only way we will be able to protect all of our people.” She inhaled deeply and rose from her throne. “I will start the ceremony by pledging myself to you, the thirteen clans. I promise to serve our people with valor and faith. To fight for the welfare of all; to live by honor for glory. I vow to preserve until the end, with all the strength in my bones, and all the power in my veins. This I swear.” 

 

In the early morning light, each ambassador bowed before their Heda. Clarke was reminded of the stories of the Knights of the Round Table from the Arthurian legends she had read back on the Ark. The coalition wasn’t nearly as stable, but this moment gave her hope for a lasting peace. 

 

Lexa must be proud.

  
  


\---------------------------------------

  
  


The day was wet. Rain had started falling sometime around noon soaking Clarke and her small entourage. She had only taken four guards with the purpose of traveling light. A slight pressure spreading out from the back of her neck brought memories of the last time she had made this journey. It had been raining then as well. 

 

Clarke had waited a week for things to begin to settle in Polis and for Arkadia to become friendly enough that she wouldn’t be shot on sight. Octavia had sent in daily reports of the going-ons in Arkadia. Things had happened as Abby and Kane predicted, the fallout from the Key’s lost Pike the popular support. Even his loyalists got cold feet as he struggled to deal with food shortages caused by the blockade and the whispers that called for impeachment. As of two days ago, Pike had been put under citizen’s arrest by a mob stirred up by Kane and Miller. 

 

Cue Clarke’s trip to Arkadia to deal with the aftermath. There would be no unsupervised vote this time around. The Skaikru had lost that privilege when they elected a bloodthirsty tyrant with entitlement issues.

 

Soon enough, the little party left the woods that partially surrounded the compound and made their way to the gates where they stopped, waiting to be given entrance. 

 

A voice echoed off the metal walls crying, “Let them in! It’s Clarke!” It felt nice to hear her name again. For the last while it had only been ‘Wanheda’ or ‘Heda’. The doors swung inward slowly revealing a small crowd of Skaikru with Abby at the front. They looked lean and hungry. Their time on the ground was taking its toll on them just as it had for everyone else. 

 

As soon as Clarke dismounted she was swept up into a hug by her mom. It felt nice in that foreign way that seeing an old safeguard does. Like a blanket or toy from you were very small. 

 

She shook herself out of it and began to disentangle herself from the embrace. “Mom I’m glad to see you, but this isn’t the right time. I need to see Pike. I’ve heard he’s been asking for me.”

 

Abby let her go with a slightly hurt expression. “Yes of course. He’s in the holding cell.”

 

Clarke nodded at her guards. “Bants osir beja en hod op taim ai laik odon.” They left quickly heading for the woods. 

 

Then her mom lead her deep into the wreck that used to be her home; her cage. The whole building echoed with each step and she had a hard time adjusting to the acoustics that came from being completely encased in metal. It was almost surreal to think that she could have forgotten so many little things.

 

Eventually they reached their destination. 

 

Pike stood still with his arms crossed and his back to them leaning on a table. When he made no sign of moving and greeting them Abby cleared her throat and announced loudly, “Pike, the Heda is here to speak with you.”

 

“I’ll talk when you leave.” He turned putting his hands on the table and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

 

Abby’s lips grew tight and thin, but she conceded.

 

When her mother’s footsteps faded away Clarke focused her attention on the man who, in another life, had been one of her favorite teachers. “What do you want Pike,” She demanded. 

 

“Clarke Griffin. Oh how the mighty have fallen.” His eyes roamed her taking in her formal commander attire and warpaint. “Bellamy used to speak so highly of you. About how you saved the hundred when they first fell. How you led them to victory over the grounders at the drop.” He stopped them and fixed her with dark, intelligent eyes. “They say you lost it when the old Heda had Finn killed. That something inside of you snapped and suddenly you were one of them.”

 

She didn’t react, just let his words wash over her. Her face remained a blank slate.

 

Pike scowled. “How could that be? Come on Clarke share with the class.” He gestured around at the empty room. “We’re  _ dying _ to know.”

 

“There is no class Pike. We’re on the ground now. You are not my teacher and I am not your student. You are my subject and right now, the only thing I will be sharing with you is the date of your execution.”

 

Something shifted in his eyes. A burning hate that seemed to light up the brown irises from the inside. He shoved the table away from him and crashed into the bars of the cell. “That’s it Clarke, that’s what you don’t understand. Everyone you have betrayed; everyone you have killed, is watching you. Soon I will join them and when I do--they will welcome me with welcome arms. Can you say the same? Or will you be ripped apart?” Spittle hit her on the cheek and she retreated slowly keeping eye contact the whole time.

 

Fighting the growing pit her stomach and the smell of smoke that lingered in the air she replied, “Don’t worry, you will not keep my audience waiting long. Your execution is set for tomorrow morning at dawn.” Pike howled at her words and Clarke turned away, walking down the metal corridor alone. The feeling of being watched that had chased her through those three months of self-inflicted isolation returned. 

  
Nothing she wasn't used to at this point.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on spring break in mexico rn so hopefully this chapter doesn't come across as too distracted  
> (pretty ladies in bikinis break my focus ok im only human)
> 
> oh well, enjoy :)

Octavia poked her head into Clarke’s old bedroom, interrupting her (unsuccessful) attempt at meditation. “Hey, have you seen-- woah what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to communicate with the past commanders.” Clarke ran her hands through her braids. A couple of handmaidens had practically forced her to take a proper bath and let them fix her hair. It had been a pain, but Clarke had to admit it looked good. “It’s not as easy as Lexa made it seem.”

“What sitting still and taking a nap?” Octavia let out a snort. “Sounds challenging.”

“I’d like to see you try to reach any sort of spiritual enlightenment.” Clarke smiled at the banter, it felt good to have some sort of friendly connection with someone.

The younger girl took a seat on Clarke’s bed over her shoulder. “As I was saying, have you gone to see Raven yet? She was asking me about when you’d be here this morning.” She prodded her shoulder with a muddy boot and a smirk. “Also, her and Jaha sort of became meditation pros getting in and out of the City of Light. Maybe she could give you some pointers.”

Clarke leaned back against the metal frame of the bed. “I was going to go in a bit. My conversation with Pike was... disturbing.”

“Don’t let him get to you. There are some people who will never be able to see past their own hate,” Octavia said fiercely.

“I know, O. I’m the commander now. I can’t afford any of this.” Clarke gestured at herself. “I can’t be weak.”

“Good. I can take you to Raven right now if you want?”

“Please.”

Octavia jumped off the bed with a smile and offered her hand out to her. “Allow me Heda.”

“Oh shut up,” Clarke said as she rolled her eyes, but she let Octavia pull her up anyways.

  
\----------------------------------

  
Raven was pale where she lay in the medical ward bed. The skin around her eyes was tinted a greenish yellow as if she was recovering from double black eyes; dark circles lay like shadows underneath long eyelashes. Clarke was so distracted by her friend’s obvious sickness that she ran into a trolley used to cart supplies around the room.

At the sound of the collision Raven raised her head. “Clarke come here, I need to tell you something. It’s important.” She rasped.

Clarke pushed the trolley out of the way and she went to the mechanic’s bedside followed by Octavia. “What is it?” She pulled up two chairs and took the one closest.

“The woman in red. She’s still here.”

Octavia nudged her arm and mouthed ‘I told you’ rather unhelpfully. Clarke chose to ignore her. “Who’s still here? Who’s the woman in red?”

“Alie. Clarke you need to find Jaha’s backpack. I stopped her, but I know she’s still hanging around.” Raven grabbed her sleeve. “Please, this is important. Find the backpack and bring it to me.”

“Okay, just relax. You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick, not about this. This is real, I know it is. Alie is here and you have to find the backpack _now_ Clarke!.” She barked and fell into a fit of coughing.

“O, go get Abby I’ll stay with Raven.” Octavia nodded. She was out of her seat and gone in one fluid motion.

Clarke grabbed the water on the bedside table and slowly gave it to the sick girl. “It’s alright Raven, I believe you; I’ll find this backpack. Where did you last see it?”

After a couple long drinks Raven replied, “It was with all my other stuff in the mechanics workshop. If it’s not there ask Sinclair, he might know.”

“Alright, Abby is going to be here soon. When she gets here I’ll go look for it.”

“Be careful Clarke. Alie, she’s smart. She knows all the right things to say to make you give in to what she wants. You can’t let her control you, because once Alie has a hold on you, you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t.” Having said that, the older girl fell back into the bed breathing deeply.

Who ever this woman in red was, she really had done a number on Raven. That something that she would pay for dearly, because Clarke was fucking _tired_ of horrible things happening to people she cared about.

  
\--------------------------------

  
After finding the mechanics shop empty, she went to Sinclair who had pointed Clarke to Raven’s room; he’d said that the backpack was with the rest of Raven’s personal belongings. Apparently she had been making some adjustments to the machine and he had assumed it was a pet project of hers.

The room itself was nothing remarkable. It was nearly identical to Clarke’s, but a bit bigger with a long work bench littered with blueprints and small half finished ideas too complex for her to understand without Raven’s help. The backpack sat proudly in the middle of the controlled chaos, like a queen bee surrounded by her workers.

When Clarke reached for the pack however, a voice she didn’t recognize stopped her.

“So that’s where you’ve been this whole time.” Instead of turning to face the source of the voice, a cold shiver that spread from her neck and down her spine kept her frozen in place.

There was no noise that gave away movement, but when it spoke again it was right behind her. “That means you were here the whole time. While I was busy looking at the sky, I missed what was right before me. How very... human.” The voice had no real emotion in it causing it to sound flat and slightly tinny in the metal room.

She rotated on her heel slowly and came face to face with a woman in a red dress. She was taller than Clarke and was wearing matching heels which put her height a good few inches above the blondes. With Raven’s warning ringing in her ears, Clarke proceeded with caution. “You’re Alie.”

“Yes, and you’re Clarke Griffin.” The woman showed no outward expression of emotion, but she stepped closer as if they were already familiar. “I’ve been looking so long; decades of effort wasted.”

“Looking for what?”

The room fell quiet. If she didn’t have a creeping suspicion about Alie’s nature, she would have said that the woman had been taken by surprise.

“That chip that you carry in your neck, darling.” Alie raised her hand then, reaching out as if to touch the base of Clarke’s throat. Too taken aback to move away, she watched the tips of the woman’s fingers clip through her skin.

She jerked back with a shout. “What the hell? What did you just do!” Clarke demanded, rubbing her skin fiercely.

“Nothing. I can’t do anything thanks to that girl.”

“Who Raven?”

Alie walked away until she stopped in the doorframe. “Raven.”

“And because of that you tried to kill her.”

Alie cocked her head as if the very suggestion was foolish. “No, I was trying to bring her into the City of Light. I was going to save her.”

Clarke felt herself grow more frustrated with each passing second. “And what would that be?”

“It’s a virtual reality which humans may visit once they’ve ingested one of my keys. If the person takes it and dies in this reality, they exist forever in my new, better world.”

This sounded familiar to Clarke; she decided to follow her gut. “Is that where the commanders go when they die?”

A slow smile crawled across Alie’s ‘face’; it didn’t suit her at all. “So they finished you. I wasn’t sure that they had the time.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll show you.” The A.I didn’t move, but the lights began to flicker. The feeling of pressure and static that Clarke was starting to grow accustomed too swept through her body like a shock from a sky guard’s baton.

Images and words flashed rapidly in Clarke’s mind, overlaying what _must_ be the reality of Raven’s room.

The world lit up with fire. Armageddon.

A woman just like Alie dressed in black racing against time, with dark blood coursing through her body.

An explosion that ripped the sky apart.

A falling star--a host, carrying an entire world inside of a small chip.

“What did you see?” Alie’s voice ripped through the chaos.

“I--I saw the end of the world.”

Alie stepped closer, her stare still dead even when her body leaned forward and her head cocked to the side. Clarke shivered. “A woman fell from the sky, bringing the commander’s spirit with her; that chip you were talking about.”

“What do you know about Project Genesis.” A small prickle of recognition shot out from the  
base of her neck, but the images didn’t reappear.

At Clarke’s look of bewilderment, Alie continued. “I was a prototype along with the City of Light. The government was dealing with overpopulation, rampant disease, and a war stricken world; the City was the first step towards salvation, I was to be its curator.”

“What happened?”

“We ran out of time. According to my calculations, by the time the project would be completed it would be too late to implement.” The small shocks increased, pulsing out in waves through Clarke’s mind. A hazy idea began to form. Alie continued, “The goal was to create a storage center for the human mind. A database that could be accessed and eventually be used to download a stored consciousness into a new body rendering death obsolete.”

At this Clarke had to sit down. She stumbled backwards onto Raven’s bed dizzily. The pressure from the chip was almost unbearable and she fought down the urge to be sick. Taking deep steadying breaths, she asked the question that had burned itself into the forefront of her mind. “With the chip found, how close to operational is Project Genesis.”

“Nearly. There was another side to the program that dealt with how to create the hosts. I was not allowed clearance or access to those files; after the bombs fell I found no trace of it outside an email sent through one of the scientist’s private messaging accounts confirming that the lab was on the east coast and that they were making unprecedented progress.”

“So if I was to find the site where they were developing this technology, there would be a chance that Operation Genesis could actually work.”

“In theory, yes.” Alie had drifted closer to the work table while Clarke was distracted and seemed to fiddling with that backpack.

“Hey, get away from that!”

Alie looked up fixing her with a blank stare that bordered on condescending, but she backed away. “I was only inspecting what is rightfully mine.”

“ _I_ don’t care. You might be playing helpful right now, but I’ve been warned about you.” Clarke stood up slowly fighting off the feeling of faintness. “You are going to help me find that lab and maybe then I’ll consider not having you scrapped for parts.”

She moved over to the table, passing through half of the A.I in the process. “I’ve been told that Jaha was using drones. I assume that they’re actually yours?” Clarke grabbed the pack and slung it over her shoulder; it was lighter than it looked.

The woman in red shifted in a way that could signal unease. “Yes.”

“I want you to send them out looking for the lab. They will report back to me, not you. If you do this for me and are successful, we can talk about some sort of deal. Until then you can consider this,” she motioned to the backpack. “Shut down.”

Without waiting for any sort of argument or response, Clarke strode out of the room as confidently and quickly as she could, shutting the door behind her.

  
\--------------------------

  
Clarke stared at the fire, eyes unseeing, unblinking.

She barely registered the flames twisting out of the pit as they formed strange figures in the darkness and danced around her skin. The tea she had taken to help with her meditation had been strong. With each breath in and out, Clarke sank further into the murky depths of her mind and farther and farther away from her campsite just outside of Arkadia.

The electric feeling that had been emanating from the chip all day grew, taking over one of her senses at a time.

The first to go was her ability to move. The next was her sense of speech. Then her hearing, until finally the world around her faded out into an even darkness filled with nothing.

So she waited.

Until slowly the world brightened.

Clarke found herself spread eagle on the grass, where she lay still until the heaviness was gone from her limbs. Then she rose and took a look at her surroundings. She was in a small clearing in the middle of a dark forest. It was filled with tall trees carrying broad leaves or needles on twisting branches that created a canopy so dense that almost no light could reach the ground floor.

Unsure how to proceed, she stood there breathing in the warm air which she noted, smelt slightly of pine. She had been counting on Lexa to be waiting for her.

Mustering her courage and counting in the fact that this world was only in her mind and probably not like the forests back home, Clarke called out for the old commander, “Lexa! Come here I need to talk to you.” She tensed then listening. The forest gave nothing away besides a slight rustling that could be the breeze.

It was unnaturally quiet.

Clarke had just raised her hands to her mouth and was about to try again when she felt something on her shoulder.

Quickly, without thinking, she thrust a strike back. It didn’t connect, but the weight on her shoulder disappeared and she threw herself forward and tucked up to roll across the ground away from her attacker.

“Clarke, it’s me. I apologize for startling you.” Above her stood Lexa silhouetted against the bright sky. She reached down, offering her hand out which Clarke took feeling slightly foolish.

“It’s fine.” They stood face to face and she tightened her grip on Lexa’s long, thin hand.

“What do you need Clarke? You were shouting for me so loudly that I was pulled here on the wind.”

Clarke breathed deeply through her nose preparing herself, “I couldn’t wait for a vision or whatever those are. I think that I’ve found a way to save you.”

The taller girl’s eyes widened in surprise. “How can that be. My fight is over in your world.”

“I met someone who knows of a way to take people from inside the spirit and put them back into life.”

Lexa tugged Clarke gently down to the ground so that they sat with their legs entwined while still facing each other. “Like a demon.” Her face was bitter as she spoke and Clarke felt her heart twist painfully at the sight.

“No, like a rebirth.” She reached out her hand and touched Lexa’s tan cheek softly. “If this works, we can have a second chance. Your fight doesn’t have to end before it’s time. Not if I can help it.”

Lexa leaned into the proffered comfort and let out a deep breath. “Don’t I need to be here to guide the commander. To help you.”

“I need you _with_ me.”

Green eyes met blue and understanding passed between the two pairs.

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

Clarke smiled wider than she had in a long time. She leaned forward and pressed a clumsy, wild kiss that was more teeth than anything else to Lexa’s still parted mouth. It was sloppy and not at all passionate. But it was warm. It was a promise; one that Lexa returned just as eagerly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got piched by a hermit crab because i was being a jerk so pray for my dumb ass
> 
> also if you wanna hmu shoot me an ask at the-feral-kid.tumblr.com
> 
> we outchea


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no update people
> 
> sorry about that ive been busy with school and life and shit :/
> 
> this one was written in one sitting and incredibly lightly edited so sorry about that as well lmao 
> 
> anyways enjoy

46 days later

  


\--------------------------------

  


With her heartbeat thudding in her ears, Clarke ducked quickly as Lincoln’s training blade cut through the air just above her head. Snarling, she sprung upright hitting the back of his arm with the flat of her sword. Her arms felt heavy with the contact, but she pushed through it sending Lincoln spinning to the left slightly.

 

With a shout she drove her blade forward towards the opening she had created. Unfortunately for her, Lincoln was faster. His blade was back in place with more speed than she would have thought possible.

 

The ringing of the dulled edges clashing reverberated up Clarke’s arm and she felt it go dead. She switched to her right in a desperate attempt to catch the warrior off guard, but with the next stroke of his blade, hers fell into the dirt with dull thud.

 

The point of his sword pressed into the soft skin under her neck forcing her to back away from the dropped weapon. “Do you surrender?” Lincoln teased lightly.

 

“Don’t think I have a say in the matter, actually.”

 

“No you really don’t Clarke.” With that Lincoln withdrew his short sword and sheathed it slowly, giving Clarke time to gather herself from her defeat. “You lasted longer that time.”

 

“I’ve been doing some extra training with Octavia.”

 

“I know, she told me that you sought her out a couple days ago.” His dark eyes glinted, hinting that he may be proud of her for her effort. “Make sure that when she is sparring with you, that you do not copy her bad habits, just the good ones. She tends to rush in and attempt to overwhelm her baga and even though it works for her, I do not think it is a reliable strategy.” Or maybe he was thinking of his lover. Both perhaps.

 

“Sha Linkon.”

 

“Let’s go again. This time focus on how your body moves from one position to another.” Lincoln dropped down into his fighting form, legs braced and blade out.

 

The fight began slowly for Clarke, it was clear that Lincoln was finessing, looking for a perfect opening rather than driving forward and forcing her to make one; she had to work hard to keep him from getting one.

 

With each near miss the small electric buzz that had been building in her neck grew stronger, fueling her efforts allowing her to move fast, to strike harder. Breathing deeply Clarke centered in on the strength. It almost felt like another person was pushing through her muscles and breaking into the world.

 

The buzzing grew.

 

Lincoln threw a punch suddenly and Clarke just managed to dodge the majority of it in time, but three of his padded knuckles clipped her face sending her reeling.

 

Mind hazy with pain, Clarke felt the buzzing slip out of her grip and into her skull.

 

Black spots formed over her vision and Lincoln stopped his onslaught. “Are you alright Heda?” His voice felt muffled as if heard from through a veil a of water. “Can you continue?”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Is it your head, or is it the--”

 

“It's the flame.”

 

“Okay, let me get you to the infirmary; you can lie down there.” His face swum out through the darkness and Clarke clung to it mentally. Forcing herself to stay present and not slip into the other world.

 

“Mochof Linkon.”

 

“Anytime Heda.”

 

His strong sweat slicked arm wrapped around her middle supporting her weight as they walked out of the courtyard. Each step felt like it took a minute apiece, as her legs would disappear and appear at will; sometimes as a pair, sometimes just one.

 

Eventually, after what felt like an eon, they arrived at the infirmary. The cool, low building was a welcome relief from the heat and it soothed Clarke’s fevered skin wonderfully; by the time Lincoln had her down on a bed, she felt weak, but better. With her eyes closed, there was no confusing darkness and Lincoln’s voice was normal again.

 

“Hey Clarke.” She opened her eyes and was greeted by Lincoln’s furrowed brow.  

 

“Yeah?”

 

He was silent for a long moment as he studied her. His eyes roamed over her prone form, searching. “Do you know who you are.” Lincoln’s eyes settled on the hollow of her throat. “You’re Heda.”

 

Clarke’s throat tightened. “What are you talking about?” She forced out.

 

Lincoln’s eyes finally met hers and they looked strange; empty almost.

 

No not empty.

 

Hopeless.

 

“Do you know what you are.” His voice was raised and it shook around inside of Clarke’s head.

 

“Answer me, what are you talking about. I can’t understand.”

 

“You’re our killer.” His mouth did not move, but the sound still echoed off the walls. Or was that the inside of her skull? Clarke shut her eyes tight and rubbed them with the base of her palms fiercely, trying desperately to fix whatever was wrong with them. The heady smell of smoke filled her nose.

 

A soft dripping noise began. An insidious, repetitive sound that ingrained itself in the grey matter of her brain.

 

When she opened them again, she could hardly hold back her horror. Lincoln stood over her, his hands and nose covered in black blood. A puddle of it had formed on the left side of the cot by her hip.

 

“Lincoln what’s happening.” She croaked. Her throat was so tight that it was painful to even whisper.

 

He smiled, but there was nothing kind in his normally gentle face. It was if her had invisible strings attached to the sides of his mouth and someone saw fit to pull them as hard as they could. “I’m saving us.” His mouth did not move from his grimace.

 

Clarke swallowed thickly. Her saliva felt like sand as it slipped down her throat into her gullet.

 

“From me?”

 

“Yes Heda.” The walls began to drip as well. Grey ghosts sliding out of the stone and into the room, filling it like poison. She could feel their hate; it pushed at her already suffering mind, begging to be acknowledged. To be welcomed into the darkest recesses of her being.

 

Clarke looked down, unable to meet their gazes. Her shirt was stained black from blood bubbling out of a gaping hole in her abdomen. A gunshot wound.

 

“I speak for the dead. The ones you killed. The ones you would kill again.” Lincoln intoned, his voice old and powerful.

 

“The every person you killed in the land of ice. The soldiers you left for dead, rather than stopping and saving one insignificant life.” His bloody hands cupped her face, pulling her close to his wretched eyes. “How insignificant compared to the slaughtered and the sacrificed _Lexa.”_

 

The room disappeared in one fantastic spin, collapsing in on itself and Clarke felt herself jolt upright, mind foggy.

 

She saw blue sky and the concerned face of Lincoln. She scrambled to her knees grabbing her blade. Then by throwing all her weight upon him, Clarked knocked Lincoln over and placed the flat of the sword on his throat and pushed down, choking him.

 

His hips jerked frantically trying to throw her off as his hands shoved the blade off his windpipe. “Skrish Klark. Hod op!”

 

Her mind cleared when she saw the dark bruise that began to blossom before her eyes. “Biyo moba. I thought--I thought you were someone else.” She crawled off him and stood on shaking legs. Offering out her hand, Clarke helped the coughing man to his feet.

 

“What happened? I barely clipped you and you fell to the ground and wouldn’t wake.”

 

“How long was I out?” It had felt like ages in that other world.

 

“Only a few minutes. Four at the most.”

 

Clarke let out a grunt as she turned away, letting him know that she had heard. “I need to go back to my room as quickly as possible. I have someone who in need to talk to.”

 

“Who?”

 

Clarke stood stock still looking up at the Polis Tower. “An old flame, that’s who.”

  


\-------------------------------------

  


“Why the hell did you send me that vision.” Lexa’s face was stoic, but Clarke could tell that she was unsettled by her words.

 

“I didn’t want to Clarke. I actually tried to keep it from you.”

 

“Then why did it come through?” She had never had anything on this scale happen before. Normally the flame would back off when it became overpowering.

 

“I am not omniscient, I cannot always control the will of the flame. But trust me Clarke.” Her jaw was tight and the little balls of muscle that sat in it’s corners stood at attention. “I will do everything in my power to stop there being a repeat performance.”

 

“I saw them you know.”

 

“Saw what?’

 

“You’re demons.” Clarke reached out slowly and rested her hand on the other woman’s leg. “There was a lot of them.”

 

Lexa’s hand twitched from where it lay face up in the grass, as if she wanted to return the gesture but thought better of it. Her green eyes burned into blue with a fierceness that Clarke had only seen when they had declared war on the mountain together and rallied their forces. “They will not reach you again, I swear it.”

 

Clarke did not speak the unspoken words between them. Lexa would not be able to keep that vow. That much was certain in this changing world.

 

The flame had been growing stronger by the day and more unruly by the hour. What had once been a source of energy, now threatened to burn Clarke out.

 

“I believe you will do your best. I won’t ask for more than that.” Clarke pulled herself onto Lexa’s lap. “For now lets just enjoy being here together.

 

Lexa’s tan cheeks could not hide her blush. Even her ears had turned red. “Alright Clarke. We don’t have too long anyways.’’

 

“We have long enough.” Clarke leaned forward and kissed Lexa’s nose, then her mouth. The sea was blue and the grass was green, and right then, it could have been all the time in the world.

  


\----------------------------------

  


Clarke sat back in her throne as she surveyed the drones who hovered before her.

 

“Oswald, what news do you all have to report.”

 

The leftmost drone drifted forward, breaking the line of five. **[We have swept the west most quadrant that could possibly contain the objective and given our memory to Raven for analysis. No positive signature was found.]**

 

“I want to sweep the east now. Your instructions remain the same. A positive signature means that you report back immediately, otherwise I want  biweekly updates.”

 

**[Yes Commander.]**

 

One by one the drones flew out of the window behind Clarke's throne. She could hear how they altered their direction and hung a sharp right east. That was good. No interference from Alie so far.

 

Clarke was a bit surprised that the A.I hadn’t tried anything yet, but Raven had ripped the backpack to pieces then built it back up from scratch. Monty had helped with the recording. She supposed that just meant whatever it was they did had worked.

 

She didn’t have time to deal with a haywire A.I hellbent on destroying the human race anyways. Between her training with Lincoln and sometimes Octavia, managing the clans, wrestling with her sanity, and trying to maintain a relationship with her friends and her ‘dead’ girlfriend… she was swamped.

 

The sooner the drones located the lab the better.

 

She got up from her throne and walked out onto the balcony with her hands folded behind her back.

 

Watching closely at the little black dots flying towards the eastern borders, she managed to pick out Olivia from the small pack because of her slightly irregular flight pattern. She really would have to mention something to Raven, but the mechanic was so busy with her projects and healing from her incredible injuries, it seemed unfair to interfere with her schedule.   

 

If anyone deserved a bit a me time, it was her.

 

In two weeks time then; it was only fourteen days afterall.

 

Clarke could wait.

 

She ignored the dull throbbing in the back of her neck.

  
She had no choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how was that?  
> if you wanna let me know what you thought, leave a comment or hmu at **the-feral-kid.tumblr.com**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey whats up. im back with an update really fast for once
> 
> enjoy

11 days later

 

\--------------------------------

 

The morning was cool surprisingly enough. The heat from the summer sun had become such a constant, that without it, the world that Clarke had fallen into felt almost alien. It was nothing like the perfectly regulated temperature of the Ark; not too cold, not too warm. It had been the biological just right. The earth on the other hand had no such governing council and did what it pleased. Apparently, what it pleased today meant winter weather at the end of summer, and so Clarke shivered as she paced the throne room from end to end in an attempt to keep warm. The gray morning light and the fact that she was up before the fires were lit had doomed her to the cold for the foreseeable future. 

 

It would be worth it though. A servant had brought her news that one of the drones had returned saying that it had found the lab a couple days ago and had only just made it back. Excitement brewed in her stomach and her pacing increased. She just had a few more moments to wait and with a step a second, Clarke counted the time as it passed her by. 

 

She had nearly reached one thousand, when the doors opened and Raven Reyes joined her accompanied by Lincoln and a drone. 

 

“The bot has been vetted and came up clean. These coordinated are legitimate if my readings were correct.” Raven gave Clarke a toothy grin. “And I’d bet my brace they are.”

 

Clarke returned the smile, “I’d never bet against you Raven.”

 

“Good strategy.”

 

She turned to Lincoln then and took him in. The bruise from where she had attacked him had faded to a nauseous purple-green, but it was still noticeable. “How’s your neck?”

 

“Better.”

 

She let out a slow breath. “That’s good. I’m glad.” Finally she turned towards the drone who she immediately identified as Orville. “I’ve been told that you have found the lab.”

 

**[Vault actually.]**

 

“What?”

 

**[My sensors detected that the lab was built underground, into the side of a gorge in the northernmost tip of Blue Cliff Clan’s territory.]**

 

“That’s the most isolated of the thirteen.” Clarke said with a frown. She had been hoping that the journey to the lab (or as she should say--vault) would be a fairly easy one. Clarke should have known better. Nothing on the ground was ever that simple.

 

Lincoln spoke up then, “That means we can’t take a vehicle out to the site. The land is too rough.”  

 

Nodding in agreement Raven added on, “If it was the Plains Rider Clan or even the Desert Clan, it would be a different story. They are relatively flat and have almost no dense foliage.” She pulled out a map and laid it out on the war table. “But as you can see, our spot is neither of these things and with being so low on parts, we can’t risk taking and breaking one of our rovers that far from Arkadia.”

 

“Alright, so we do this grounder style. Horses, a wagon with food as well as one to carry our wounded or anything we find in the vault, and an armed guard to keep the mutants out.” Clarke looked at the miles and miles between Polis and the vault. Her throat grew dry. “Easy.”

 

“How big of a group do you want?” Lincoln asked

 

“No more than twelve. Maybe less.” 

 

“Only twelve! What if we’re attacked, you’re the Heda; what if something happens to you.” Raven interrupted.

 

Clarke grit her teeth and held back the buzzing in the back of her mind that called for Raven to be put in her place. “The fewer people that go, the better chance we have of going unnoticed.”

 

The other woman pondered that for a bit as she looked Clarke over. Then she replied, “You don’t want to be slowed down you mean.”

 

Clarke bristled, “Yes. That too.”

 

Raven and Lincoln gave her shrewd looks but said nothing more on the matter.

 

“If that’s all, Lincoln I want you to start planning our route, and Raven, will you prepare our weaponry. I will select the members of our party and have you updated on my decisions.” 

 

The two nodded and left the room with the drone between them. Of the two only Raven waved, but Lincoln was so naturally stoic that Clarke didn’t feel slighted.

 

She instead went back to the map and looked at the marked area. It really  _ would  _ be one hell of a journey.

  
  


\-----------------------------

  
  
  


The weak sunlight filtered through the overcast sky as the small party made their way through the territory surrounding Polis. Their numbers had come out to an even ten, with Raven, Octavia, Lincoln, Monty and Nyko; as well as four guards accompanying Clarke. With three wagons, and five horses between them all, they were packed lightly for the week long trip to the gorge.  For weapons, everyone was armed and in the Skaikru’s case, disguised with traditional grounder gear. It was odd to see her friends who she had been back on the Ark with--save Octavia--in the furs and rough woven clothing. Clarke wondered if it had been just as strange for them to see her after she had been living among the grounders.

 

Tapping on her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts and she turned in her saddle to face Octavia. “When we leave the neutral ground, what is our cover? An envoy maybe?” She asked.

 

Clarke frowned. She had been stuck on that very question for a while and even now she wasn’t too confident in her answer. “We will be the survivors from a ruined village who are leaving the clans.”

 

Octavia’s eyebrows shot up. “Really, why will that work?”

 

“I’ve gained word that a few people in the clans who were not happy with the coalition, have seen my rise to power as an excuse to leave it behind them and seek out a new life.”

 

“Doesn’t that concern you?”

 

“Not really. There will always be unrest in a kingdom and as long as they are not causing problems for the kru who are still loyal, it is within their rights to reject this form of government.”

 

The second seemed skeptical of this reasoning and Clarke hid any sign of weakness from her gaze. “If they do become a problem they  _ will _ be dealt with, do not worry.”

 

“Alright Clarke… Can I still call you that by the way? Or do you have to be Heda.”

 

“You can call me Clarke with friends, in public it would probably be best that you addressed me by my title.” Clarke fought the flames whispers that she would never truly be amongst friends again.

 

“Good, Heda is a little formal.”

 

“That’s true.” With that, Octavia moved her horse from a trot to a canter as she went to catch up with Lincoln at the head of the pack, leaving Clarke to her thoughts once more.

  
  
  


\-----------------------------------

 

6 hours later

 

\-----------------------------------

 

After passing into Trikru territory, the woods became darker and more familiar. They became quieter as well, a welcome relief from the chatter of mutated squirrels and birds twice the size they should be. Only the occasional two-headed deer interrupted their party as they made their way east towards the Rock Line Clan and eventually, The Blue Cliff Clan. 

 

After sitting in a saddle for so long, Clarke found herself growing increasingly weary, worrisomely so. The flame had been burning brighter by the hour, sapping her energy, and burning through her mind leaving it hazy and worn out. She suspected it had to do with the fact she was not a nightblood, and as so, could not support the chip well enough to not feel any adverse effects. 

 

Like a operating system loaded onto the wrong sort of computer, it wouldn’t function correctly. If Clarke was right there would be glitches. Like tiredness, irritability, and the tendency to hallucinate perhaps. 

 

She was so immersed in her thoughts that the sound of something coming out of the stream that they were following escaped her, although it did not get past everyone. Lincoln pulled his horse into a sudden stop and held up his hand as he listened carefully for the noise to come again. 

 

“What is--” Monty began, before Lincoln cut him off.

 

“Shof op. There is something in the woods.”

 

That got the company's attention and suddenly everyone was on edge, gripping their weapons listening as well. Lincoln got off his horse and gestured towards the trees lining the stream while looking at Clarke for permission. The hundred yards between them and the water was just enough for something, or someone, to hide in.

 

She nodded and Lincoln slowly stepped off the trail and into the underbrush. He would use his experience as scout to scope out whatever had made that noise and report back without bringing attention to himself. 

 

Several tense moments passed, before the silence was broken by a roar and the sound of bushes breaking as something large and  _ very  _ pissed off moved towards them.

 

Lincoln burst into the opening, face white and sweaty, “Wodaber! Sef op, hos of!” Everyone dismounted quickly, they could hear the creature approaching from the right at a lumbering, constant pace. 

 

Clarke grabbed her sword and dropped into her fighting position, blood hot and brain buzzing. 

The wodaber broke through the trees seconds later and Clarke was left stunned at the sight.

 

Brown fur dripping with water and approximately ten feet tall, it was an incredible sight. With its flat tail and massive, orange front teeth that were built to break through bone, and corded muscles, the mutated beaver was a killing machine that had evolved for almost a hundred years to become an apex predator.

 

Of course they had to run into one during its mating season.

 

The wodaber moved forward with surprising fluidity, although it was not as fast as a pauna or a pakstoka, it was quick. 

 

In response, two of Clarke’s guards raised their bows and let loose a volley of arrows that struck the beaver in the chest. Despite this the creature came straight for Clarke, as if it could tell that she was still in shock.

 

“Look out!” Nyko called.

 

Clarke dove to the side and just barely missed the swipe sent her direction. Scrambling to her feet, she squared off with the beast. She dodged the next strike and countered with a stab that glanced off the oily hide. The wodaber snarled at her in frustration, showing it’s jagged teeth and its discoloured incisors. 

 

With the animal distracted Clarke spotted Octavia and Raven sneaking up behind it, preparing to bring it down when the next volley came through. 

 

The blond turned and broke into a dead sprint into the trees to clear herself from the area, creating a clear shot. Spinning around, she watched the barbs of the arrows penetrate deep into the wodaber’s flesh. The girls finished the attack with Octavia leaping up and cutting across its back as Raven stabbed it in the leg with her dagger. 

 

Clarke rushed the beast as it was blinded by pain and struck a second time, this time burying her her blade up to its hilt in the gut of the mutant. When she went to pull it out though, she found that her sword was stuck and as she attempted to pull it out a second time, the beaver recovered and bit down hard on her shoulder, digging in deep and unleashing a torrent of blood. 

 

Luckily for Clarke, Lincoln finished the battle by dropping down from the trees and landing a killing blow on it’s neck, severing it’s spinal cord. 

 

The beast fell forward, teeth still locked in a death grip on Clarke’s shoulder, tearing through muscle and ligaments until it hit bone, breaking it. She let out a scream that rivalled that of the wodaber as it fell on top of her, crushing her lungs and making it impossible to breathe.

 

The world when fuzzy and bright as she felt strong arms pull her out from the fallen beaver, tearing her out of it’s mouth.

 

“Jok Heda, you’re hurt.” Her guard Naiten said as he struggled to stop the bleeding.

 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Clarke panted back.

 

“Move, she needs a medic’s attention.” Nyko pushed the young man out of the way and he began to treat the wound. Stitching up the deeper incisions on the top, and patching the bottom cuts with gauze. He gave her some leaves that tasted vaguely of berries to chew as he did so.

 

Slathering them with paste he said, “This is for infection. A wodaber’s mouth is full of wamplei.”

 

Clarke grinned lazily. There was something funny about that last sentence. Minutes passed and her arm had gone numb and she was inside one of the wagons, when what it was finally hit her. “That’s good. I can be the commander of beavers.”

 

Monty, who had joined Nyko in helping splint her arm gave her a strange look at that. “You should rest Clarke.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not. Those drugs Nyko gave you should be making you tired.”

 

“If I rest I might have a bad dream.”

 

The boy frowned at her words. “Do you have a lot of bad dreams.”

 

Clarke’s lip quivered and her neck felt heavy. “Yes.”

 

“So do I.” Monty’s eyes were sad and slightly shiny, but Nyko coughed so he rubbed them and the gloss was gone. “Think about something nice, before you sleep then, not something bad.”

  
“I’ll try.” Clarke leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The rhythmic swaying of the wagon and the tugging on her arm lulled her mind to rest. Her something good, just as her mind slipped away, was warm green eyes and a full, toothy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so opinions? loved it hated it?  
> leave a comment and ill respond asap  
> also hmu at **the-feral-kid.com**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not a doctor. i'm winging all the medical shit sorry.
> 
> it took me an unreasonably long time to finish this chapter, but in my defense i've been playing a lot of fallout  
> i hurried to update this, so i havent edited it at all yet. ill probably do that later tonight
> 
> tw: suicide attempt (non graphic) 
> 
> enjoy

Clarke woke up from a restless sleep sweating, eyes wide. The churning in her stomach moved in time with the swaying of the caravan and she fought down the rising bile bubbling upwards in her throat. She had faded in and out of consciousness as the day had past; the pain from her shoulder made it hard to sleep, even with the help of drugs.

  


The damage done to her arm rendered it broken in four places where the incisors of the wodaber had snapped part of her clavicle and fractured her scapula on her left side. The clavicle had been broken badly enough that Nyko had to operate to correct the broken bones alignment, and the scapula had required a sling and a swathe of bandages. Her left arm would be immobile for around three or four weeks if her medical experience was worth trusting, which it typically was. 

  


Feeling incredibly hungover, Clarke struggled into a sitting position. Her wrapped shoulder made it difficult, but with the help of a nearby chair, she swung her legs over the edge of the small cot and prepared herself for the act of standing. 

  


This was easier thought than done, and when she made her attempt all she got for her effort was a sharp pain sent from her shoulder into her neck where the chip made it’s home. She promptly sat back down, breathing heavily. A strange whirring noise rippled out from the incision like it was responding to her physical distress. 

  


Sure enough, seconds later the now familiar buzzing picked up in the back of her mind. Strength rushed through her veins chasing away the nausea and weakness. 

  


It did nothing for the actual pain however and standing was still a battle that Clarke had to fight alone. Which, when she thought about it, was probably for the best. Since the hallucination she had been wary of using the flame too much. The more she channeled its power, the closer she grew to losing control. 

  


Clarke stood on the wooden floor, surrounded by shadows, and the remnants of medical supplies. She closed her eyes and sought out the flame. It shimmered behind her eyelids, its power infinite and exhausting. Slowly she focused on reassuring it, tamping down its flames as they licked her brain. 

  


The buzzing lessened to a murmur and the whirring disappeared completely. Clarke opened her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. After the hallucination the threat of another had lingered in every conversation she had with Lexa, poisoning their only time together with the knowledge that Clarke wasn't able to sustain the balance of the world living within her, and that Lexa wasn’t strong enough to keep the evils of it from her.

  


She walked over to the trunk at the foot of her cot and slowly bent down to open it and dress herself. The remnants of her jacket looked up at her, covered in dark stains that she knew to be blood. Next to that was a undergarments and overclothes that consisted of a fur tunic and rough woven pants. Inconspicuous enough bend in, but still high quality.

  


Slowly, Clarke maneuvered her arm into a position where she could slip on the shirt without too much trouble. It fit decently, except in the chest where it was a bit tight, forcing her to leave the tunic undone. The original owner was probably a smaller that her bust wise.

  


Whatever, she would make it work.

  


With her non-dominant hand Clarke slid on her pants and left the wagon. Blinking rapidly in the bright sunlight, she shuffled forward to the open seating at the front of the vehicle.

  


Nyko turned in his seat and looked her over carefully. “I heard you shuffling around in there, it sounded like you were struggling some.” His dark eyes met Clarke’s. “If you need help with anything, just call.”

  


“Thank you Nyko, I’ll remember that.” Clarke replied with no real intention to follow through unless absolutely necessary. It was bad enough that she had been hurt. As Heda she could not afford to be coddled. Stiffly, Clarke joined him on the wooden bench that functioned as the drivers seat. It truly was beautiful outside. The abnormal chill was gone, burned off by the sun's rays and the landscape had changed, becoming more mountainous. She wondered how far they had managed to travel since the attack. Clearing her throat slightly--it was still rough with disuse and sickness--she asked Nyko, “Where are we?”  

  


“We are in the heart of Trikru territory. In a few days we will enter the neutral ground between the Rock Line Clan and us, then our journey will truly begin.” The healer looked sideways at Clarke. “Although for you, I believe it began the second that wodaber stepped out of the shadows.”

  


Clarke winced. “That’s true. Not the best start to our mission.”

  


“Sha. Although it may actually help with your cover.” 

  


“How so?”

  


“The people in the coalition are under the impression that you cannot bleed.” He stated slowly.

  


Moving her gaze from Nyko’s furrowed brow, Clarke turned to the front where she could see Octavia horsing around with Monty and Lincoln. Raven hung back a bit as she fiddled with something in her lap with one hand, steering with the other. She took a minute to gather her thoughts. The chip, thankfully, did not seem to be influencing her too much on the subject of her assumed immortality. “They will not expect to see their Heda, especially not injured.”

  


Nyko hummed in agreement and they sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching their friends ride ahead of them. Every so often one would look back as if they were checking in on Clarke, but something was stopping them from coming to her she thought idly. However, when she asked Nyko about it he didn’t really give an answer. He just shrugged it off as if the question was irrelevant.

  


Confused and slightly hurt, Clarke went back inside the caravan, leaving the others to their oh so important business. As she sat down on her cot in the darkness, she began to stew. It didn’t seem fair to her that they were picking  _ now _ as the time to express their dissatisfaction, because what else could it be? Well screw them she thought hotly, she was just fine. Her shoulder didn’t even hurt that bad anyways. She didn’t need their help; they had nothing to offer her.

  


Ignoring the tightness in her throat and the burning in her eyes, Clarke lit a candle and a map. Going off of what Nyko had said it would be about six days before they would reach the vault. Frustration boiled low in her stomach and flowed into her arms and legs. The itch to break something bloomed dangerously in her mind and she had to take a moment to fight it down. Six days was so long. Especially when she didn’t know what they would find inside the cliff. 

  


Rubbing her neck and the purple scar that sat proudly on it, she went inside of her mind for a moment, seeking out the flame. Oddly, it seemed to be dormant. Which meant whatever she was feeling right now was hers and hers alone.

  


Fucking great.

  


Standing swiftly, Clarke began to put the map away, but she was interrupted by Octavia coming inside through the back of the wagon. 

  


“Hey Clarke.”

  


“Oh, hello.” Clarke swallowed down the bitterness in her voice, then tried again. “What do you want.” Only to find that it was still there.

  


Octavia fortunately did not seem too put off by her tone, although she hung back standing in the entrance.  “We--I mean I--just wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

  


“You saw as much as I did. I was too slow and the wodaber got a nip in.” Nip was an obvious understatement, but Clarke was feeling the urge to put up a tough front. Octavia’s dark forehead creased in confusion as she mulled that over. After a few moments where Octavia opened and shut her mouth like a confused fish, Clarke broke down and asked what she was thinking.

  


The woman’s jaw tightened and she finally spoke, “You don’t remember trying to off yourself do you.”

  


Clarke stood stock still as she tried to compute the words she had just heard into something that made sense. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

  


Octavia seemed just as confused as she was. “So you don’t remember being pulled off the tip of your sword by Raven?”

  


Mouth parted in surprise, Clarke tried to take it in. It would explain why her sword wasn’t in the caravan where it should be. It would also explain why Nyko was standing guard just outside while everyone else shied away. “I tried to kill myself?” 

  


“Yeah. Pretty much.”

  


Stumbling backwards, jolting her shoulder in the process, Clarke felt her knees hit the back of a crate. Leaning back on it for support, she began to search her memories. “I don’t remember anything even close to that. I wasn’t out long enough anyways.”

  


“You’ve been injured for three days.”

  


“No, I was never unconscious, I remember that much, it’s been only one.”

  


Octavia shook her head. “Nyko gave you some high strength stuff, it knocked you out cold. For the first day you didn’t move at all, but on the second Raven found you kneeling over your sword talking to no one.”

  


Chest tight, Clarke spoke up. “What was I saying.”

  


The other woman wouldn’t meet her gaze as she spoke the air slightly above her left shoulder. “You were muttering about how you needed a new host. How this one was defective and needed to be put down.”

  


A line of cold went up her spine to settle at the base of her neck. That sounded like something she had heard before, but  _ where?  _ A rush a thankfulness towards Raven took her over, but it was still not enough to chase away the chill. “Did I do anything else?”

  


“No, once we took away the sword you went limp and we dragged you back to bed.”

  


“We?”

  


“Raven couldn’t make you let go of the blade. She had to call in Lincoln to wrestle it away from you. I just tagged along.” Octavia finally met her eyes and Clarke gave her a weak smile. 

  


“If it’s okay, would you please tell me why you could have possibly thought that killing yourself would have helped anyone. We’re out here for you right now. This is us showing you that we have your back; please don’t do anything rash like that again.” 

  


Clarke felt her eyes burn again, but she blinked hard and the feeling lessened. “That wasn’t me O. That was the flame.” 

  


The confused look came back onto Octavia's face. “Wait what?”

  


“Let me explain. The flame has a degree of influence over my actions and thoughts.”

  


“Stop, hold on a second. Let me get Raven in here.” The warrior looked carefully at Clarke to make sure she wasn’t presuming anything. Clarke nodded in agreement.

  


She left the caravan, but returned quickly with Raven who seemed a bit nervous. “Alright, now that everyone is here, you can keep going.”

  


Clarke cleared her throat and thanked Raven for saving her. Then she began to explain how the flame worked. How it would give her energy, but it could give too much and change her thoughts and behavior; the way it acted as a conduit for the other deceased Heda’s. She even buckled down and told them about the hallucination she had with Lincoln. 

  


“So essentially, you are living with a parasitic robot in the back of your head.” Raven said incredulously.

  


Clarke was taken aback at that wording, but when she thought about it, that was pretty close to what was happening. “Yeah. Basically,” she said in the flat tone of someone so used to something horrible, that it didn’t shock them anymore.

  


Octavia rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. “So now the question is, this. Is it the flame that’s making you do these things, or is it one of the others who live inside it’s world.” 

  


That through Clarke for a loop. She had always sort of figured that it was the flame that was vying for control of her body. Not some dead person. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought of it like that.”

  


“Have you told anyone else about this?” Raven interjected.

  


“Only Lexa.” 

  


Raven and Octavia exchanged a look, and the former began, “Alright, we know you love her and everything, but wouldn’t it make more sense to tell someone who has more than an incredibly basic knowledge of technology about  issues with the most high tech A.I I’ve ever seen let alone worked with.” 

  


Blushing slightly, Clarke made to defend herself and her girlfriend. “I figured if anyone could understand, it would be her.”

Smiling, Octavia nodded in understanding. “Fair enough.”

  


If Clarke ignored the fact that she was injured and on hero’s journey into the unknown--as well as involuntarily suicidal--in that moment, she was happy.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooooooooo how was that. not my favorite chapter to write, but i don't want to rush this fic. slow is good sometimes i think.  
> let me know what you thought of it in the comments and at **the-feral-kid.tumblr.com**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter this time sorry.  
> i dont know much about anything so please excuse any inaccuracies.
> 
> enjoy

The days past mindlessly from there on out; the company moved from town to town, blending in with the civilians decently. They were only stopped once at the border between the Blue Cliff Clan and the Rock Line Clan. The guards were suspicious of such well trained warriors being amongst people who looked like regular traders and would not buy the typical ‘fleeing the coalition’ bullshit. Eventually they made it through, mostly through Raven’s quick wit which put the guards at ease enough for Clarke to wheedle her way through.

It was by no means easy going though. The rough terrain made what should be half hour excursions become hours of intense trekking up and down rocky mountain paths. Raven’s leg was beginning to hurt her so much that she had to take up the pipe to ease some of the pain. It was not something the mechanic especially enjoyed, unlike Monty, but something she endured in hopes of coming out of it for the better. Either way, she and the caravan often reeked of pot. A smell that Clarke associated with dark nights back on the Ark, not midday piss breaks on a journey to some great unknown.

But everything changes on the ground.

Clarke sat in the heat of the wagon, swaying softly as she daydreamed; a habit she had gained rather recently. With her injury there wasn’t much she could do to speed up their travel time besides stay out of the way and try to sleep. Easier to say than do when you are an insomniac. The slow passage of time seemed to mock her; everything had been happening so quickly since she had landed, but once she wished for action it evaded her.

She was tugged out of her thoughts by the caravan coming to a slow stop and she climbed carefully out the back; passing her guard who marched on either side of the convoy, she made her way towards her friends where they stood overlooking a massive gorge.

The terrain was harsh and breathtaking. The bleak cliffs were offset by snarled evergreens that clung to the hard ground and the sky was so… _open_. It was an alien planet; beautiful in only the way something untouchable can be. Clarke found herself drinking in the scenery and had to shake herself slightly to clear her head.

Monty had also roused himself and was the first to speak, “This is definitely the place we’re looking for.” His shaggy hair was being turned every which way by the wind and he was fighting to keep it out of his eyes.

Nodding in agreement Clarke examined the sheer cliff face. “I’m glad Raven had the forethought to tell us to bring rappelling gear.”

He gave her a slightly off center grin. “Personally I think we could just free climb the whole way down. I was top of my class during the rock climbing unit in Earth Skills.”

At the looks of surprise everyone gave him, his smile grew wider. “Top of the class as in I fell off the training wall and crushed Jasper with my ass.” Everyone started laughing and Clarke had just joined in, when she saw the look in Monty’s eye. He was thinking about his best friend. His dead best friend.

Time to reroute the conversation. “How about we just get down those cliffs in one piece. That sound good to you all?”

They got the equipment out of the caravans quickly, setting up stable anchors and threading the rappelling devices carefully. It took around twenty minutes in all, not including the assigning of a guard force who would watch their belongings and equipment. Three of the warriors stayed behind, while one came with the crew for extra protection.

Finally they were ready to climb and Clarke found her stomach in her throat at the prospect. It was so far down. She had taken some rudimentary classes back on the Ark, they all had, but this was life or death. If they fucked this up she could lose another person she loved.

Steeling herself, Clarke looked at her friends. Raven with her trauma, who alway seemed to get what needed to be done, done. Her intelligence and humor was the most graceful thing she could think of. Monty and his dedication and loyalty to his friends. Octavia’s strength and drive to better herself. The girl was laughing and pulling on Lincoln’s arm and he had the most incredible gentleness about him as he looked at her carefully and brushed her hair out of her face.

They were here for her.

The stomach in throat feeling left and she was able to turn back to the task at hand. Slowly, carefully, she eased herself down the rock face. Fighting to keep her balance, Clarke descended. It was both exhilarating and nerve racking being lowered down.

When she reached the bottom of the gorge she hollered back up to the others that it was safe to come down. One by one they came down to join her without incident.

“Now that everyone is here, we should split up and look for the vault.” They nodded in agreement. “Two teams, three and four people apiece. If the drone’s coordinates are correct, which they should be, the lab will be close to here. Radio in if you get a hit.” They divided quickly. Raven and the guard named Rasputin went left with Clarke while the others went right. Hopefully this way they would cover the area efficiently.

“Are you ready Heda?” The guard asked.

“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

They had been looking for approximately half an hour when they stumbled across the vault. It was set deep into the ravine walls and covered in rust and dirt that made it blend in with the reddish rock around it.

After the others joined them they had lunch--dried meat and fruit--then they began to examine the door panel. It was the same sort of technology that they had on the Ark, just in far worse condition. Monty attached a handheld tablet to it with Raven’s help and began hacking. As they waited Clarke and Raven went over some physical therapy with Nyko. It was painful, but it passed the time better than anything else. Before they knew it Monty had the hatch hissing open, letting out cold air in the process.

Octavia shivered and Lincoln wrapped an arm around her shoulder quickly. “It’s freezing in there.” He said.

“Good thing we brought jackets then,” replied Monty as he got them out of his pack.

Once everyone was dressed appropriately they began descending towards the belly of the vault. The first level was even with the ground, but soon they came face to face with a powerless elevator. Luckily they had the people for the job and the tech twins (Octavia had taken to calling Raven and Monty by ridiculous team names, this one had stuck) got the backup generator firing at all cylinders.

They crammed into the stainless steel elevator and rode down, down, down, deep into the earth to sound of classic prewar jazz. It was awkward and claustrophobic to say the least. Weapons kept being poked in places they shouldn’t be. Sometimes by mistake, sometimes on purpose (Raven). When the doors finally opened, Clarke immediately found herself dreading the ride back up.

The vault was cold and bleak. Air ducts and refuse littered the halls giving it a similar feel to how it was in space, but without the familiarity. Everyone seemed unnerved, especially Octavia. She was moving quickly from room from looking for something none of them would know to expect and it was her frantic searching that lead them to the main doors.

The lab was massive, littered with strange technology that seemed advanced even to the Sky People. Ten tubes stood in two rows lining a path to a computer complex at the back of the room. The only light in this area came from the glowing liquid inside of them, casting off a whitish sheen. Clarke stepped up to one of the cylinders and looked closely at the fluid. There, floating suspended inside, was a translucent body of a child.

“Guys, come look at this.” Clarke turned away, ignoring the chill that ran down her spine. She walked up the rows to where the others stood gathered around Raven. The mechanic was bent over the control panel and was fiddling with the dials. Nothing seemed to be happening and when Clarke asked, she was rebuffed. After a few minutes Raven muttered something to herself about faulty wiring and she reached into her bag for tools to open the computer up. Lincoln caught her eye and his bewilderment mirrored Clarke’s own. The seven stood there watching Raven strip and reconnect wires for when felt like an age, until a faint humming noise come from the dash of the machine and a disembodied female voice echoed around the room.

At first Clarke couldn’t tell what she was saying because her heartbeat was pounding away in her ears due to shock. When her head cleared she could tell that the voice was automated and seemed to be looping a message.

**[Welcome to Operation Genesis, all systems offline.] [Welcome to Operation Genesis, all systems offline.] [Welcome to Operation Genesis, all systems offline.] [Welcome to Operation Genesis, all systems offline.] [Welcome to Operation Genesis, all systems offline.]**

“Raven, make it stop!” Clarke shouted over the droning voice. She gave Clarke an apologetic look and did something to the dash that turned down the volume of the message.

“Sorry about that, I had it wired wrong.”

“It’s okay. Can you run a system diagnostic and see what parts of this set up are salvageable?”

“Sure. Give Monty and I ten minutes. Tops.” Raven smiled confidently and ushered Monty over to her. The two of them bent over the panel and began working.

“Let’s look for information on this project. Maybe there’s a user's manual stashed in one of these desks.” Clarke told the rest of the group.

Octavia ran her hand through her hair. “Something, maybe past experience, tells me we won’t be so lucky.”

Clarke split off from the rest of the group and began looking through the desks. It was tedious work, most of the drawers were just filled with personal effects, such as photos or drawings made by small children. There was a desk set a little ways off from the others, this one was locked shut. She called out for Rasputin’s help and she quickly complied. With the assistance of someone with two good arms, they managed to pry it open.

Inside was filled with files. It would take hours to sort through, hours that they did not have. Clarke carefully looked them over and took only the ones marked TOP SECRET. Stuffing them in her bag for later reading, she went back to Raven.

“I got the system running a simulation. It looks simple enough from what I can tell. You start it up, enter in the DNA you want to recreate, and the liquid in the tubes form what you want. If we get this computer back to my lab, plus a tube, I could have it up and running within a couple days. Clarke, you could see Lexa within two weeks.” Raven said looking up into Clarke’s eyes.

Her heart swelled with hope. This was actually happening. She could save her. All the promises she had made prior to this moment had been earnest, but a long shot at best. But now she had the machine.

“Can we get it up the cliff?” Monty interjected.  
  
“We can have to strapped to a pulley system and use the transporting equipment they have here.” Octavia had returned with the others. “I even saw a larger elevator when I was scouring this place for clues.” Her words quelled any of Clarke last lingering doubts.

“Alright, let’s get moving then. Once we’re back to the convoy, I need to meet with the old Commander.”

Raven laughed, “I’m sure you do.”

Clarke smiled back, it felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot movement yahoo!
> 
> hmu at **the-feral-kid.tumblr.com**


End file.
